The Harlequin's Request
by MissScorp
Summary: Harley finds herself at the breaking point and reaches out to the only person she can think of who might help her to finally escape the hell she's in. Four-shot. Harley Quinn. Brief appearance of Batman at the end. T for mildly suggestive themes. Pre-Arkham City/Post-Arkham Asylum.
1. I'm done

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but for my general concept and theme of the storyline…

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It was a month after the Joker's takeover of Arkham Asylum when Harley recalled Doctor Kean's words to her;

'"_If you ever reach the point where you've had enough and wanna ask someone for help? You call me. Day or night. Rain or shine. Call. I will come, Harley. And I will help you_."'

She'd sat there staring into the doc's eyes, stunned to the very lowest core of her being that someone who not only worked for the Asylum, but who was also a member of the GCPD, was willing to help her. She'd wanted to scoff, to hide behind an illusion of condescension, but the open sincerity and the heartfelt honesty that had been shimmering in that jewel toned gaze stopped her. She'd seen that the doc knew, that she'd _understood_ exactly what it was that she was going through. _And she weren't judging me for it. Or treating me as if I was something ta be pitied because of it_.

Tears pooled and were violently brushed off cheeks that were stone cold to the touch. She told herself that tonight was enough. That she'd cried enough because of that clown. That she'd suffered enough abuse at his hands. She definitely deserved better than a selfish, narcissistic, murderous, psychopathic clown. _No more_, she vowed. _I'm done being his punching bag, and his sex toy. I'm through with being his Harls. And I'm through with him_.

Freedom was merely a phone call away. All she had to do was call and tell the doc that she was ready, that she'd reached the breaking point. And she'd be taken away to a place where there was no more pain, no more humiliation, and no more degradation.

_No more regrets_.

She crept over to where she'd hidden a burner phone that she'd programmed with the doc's number in a hole that she'd carved into the wall of the manager's office. Her hands were shaking so hard as she lifted down the frame that contained her license to practice psychology that she fumbled the plaque, almost dropping it. She shot a terrified look over her shoulder, half expecting that skeletal figure to be watching her from the shadows with half crazed eyes, and a cruel smile twisting that hideously painted mouth.

When she saw he wasn't there, she turned and reached into the tiny opening, her heart in her throat, her breath frozen in her chest and her body taut as piano string. She only relaxed when her hand closed around that lifesaving plastic encased device. She clutched the phone to her chest for a moment before finally turning it over and powering it on. She'd made sure to keep the phone fully charged just in case the day ever came where she decided enough was enough. And just as soon as the main screen popped up, she hit the call button and put the phone to her ear.

And heard it begin ringing...

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**A/N:** Alright, this story is a sequel to my other one-shot **The** **Harlequin's Regret**. I'm writing this as part of the Green Room challenge that was posted over on the Reviews Lounge, Too forums. The GR challenge is a series of NINE challenge prompts over the course of the month. This is my response to prompt number six which is:

_Choose as your fic's main character a minor character who doesn't get a lot of screen time in canon. Stickers if, instead of just giving that character his/her own separate story, you incorporate your character in a significant role into the canonical main characters' storylines in the original fandom (extra shiny stickers if it's totally canon-compliant instead of just "what-if")._

Challenge accepted!


	2. The Phone Call

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but for my general concept and theme of the storyline…

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She was having the loveliest of dreams. She was lost on a deserted tropical island with Jason. It was night and the beach was awash in silvery moonlight. Suddenly the surf foaming up onto the beach began to sound like Nickleback's _Savin' Me_. Her first thought was: since when does the ocean sound like a Canadian music band? Her next thought? _Crap, work_. She tried to cling to the dream, but the song interceded and began to pull Raya closer and closer to the realm of consciousness. She finally had no choice but to blink open sleep heavy eyes. She cursed as she reached over to grab the intrusive piece of technology off the nightstand. She rolled onto her back and slid her finger across the screen to answer.

"Kean."

"Doc?"

That single, emotionally charged word was delivered in a voice that reminded her of a scared little girl. Raya sat bolt upright, instantly awake. Her sudden move disturbed the small figure that had been curled against her.

"Mmph," they murmured before flopping over and burying their face into the pillow. Raya smoothed a hand over his back, knowing that it would lull the son, much as it did his father, back to sleep. She heard his breathing even back out and smiled as she balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder.

"Harley?"

"Ya remember how youse said ta call ya whenever I was ready ta leave Mr. J? That youse would help me?"

"Yes, I do."

There was a moment's pause. Then Raya heard Harley sigh and imagined that she was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth while she wavered about officially asking for help in leaving the Joker. _Come on, Harley_, she silently begged. _Just take that step_.

"Did ya mean it?" was finally asked in a slow, hesitant voice. "Will ya help me?"

"I meant it, Harley," she answered back in a firm, but kind voice. "I will help you. But only if you want my help."

"Well," there was a trembling sigh. "I'm done. I can't take it no more," there was another slight pause and Raya thought she heard a tiny sniffle. "Even a girl like me has gotsa deserve betta than this."

Raya knew that this was likely the hardest thing that Harleen Quinzel had done in her entire life. But it was a step that she knew the woman had to take in order to reclaim the parts of herself that the Joker had stolen. Her heart went out to the abused woman. Jason would have said that she was much to tender hearted, and that Quinn didn't deserve her pity or sympathy. But Raya knew how hard getting away from an abusive monster was. She'd lived with one for the first thirteen years of her life. She'd only gotten away from her father because she had had both the societal influence of Bruce Wayne, the moral support of James Gordon, and the brute strength of Batman.

"No matter what you've done, Harley," Raya said firmly. "You deserve better than being a punching bag. Or a sex doll."

There was another moment of silence. Raya imagined it was because Harley was struggling with accepting the fact that somebody not only understood the kind of hell she was in, but was willing to help her get out of it.

"Can youse meet me at the old Monarch Theater in like a half hour?"

All she said was; "I'll be there."


	3. Where do you think you're going?

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but for my general concept and theme of the storyline…

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After she hung up, Harley crept over and returned the phone to its hiding place. She then went to get out the travel bag that she'd hidden in the closet. Inside was nothing more than a single change of clothes, some personal effects, and a few token items and mementos she knew she could not live without. She turned to look about the room she'd been sharing with her puddin' ever since they'd broken out of the asylum, her heart heavy, and her soul sad. _  
_

_Why couldn't _you_ be more like the doc's guy_? she silently accused the man who'd so completely changed her life. _I'd do anythin', be anythin' for a guy like that_.

Her eyes filled with tears. One fat drop rolled hotly down her cheek, pooled at the corner of her mouth. For the second time that night she told herself that she'd had enough. That she'd cried enough. That she'd suffered enough. And over and over she kept telling herself that the doc was right: that she definitely deserved more than what she was getting. _I'm not a punching bag, or a sex toy. And I'm not just some dolly he can throw away whenever he gets tired of playing with me_, she thought fiercely.

But then her heart froze in her chest when she caught the sound of a raspy cough; heard that rough voice growl;

"And where do you think you're going?"

_No_, she thought wildly. _Please don't_ _let him be standing there_…

She slowly turned around.


	4. It'll happen

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but for my general concept and theme of the storyline…

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_Trust your instincts._

It was the first lesson that Bruce had taught her after he'd started training her. "Learn to trust that what your instincts are telling you is the truth," he'd told her in their first meeting in that cavernous training room. "They will never fail you. And will serve best to keep you from walking into an enemy's trap."

She'd never forgotten that lesson. Nor any of the other lessons that she'd learned over the course of her sixteen year evolution from traumatized and helpless kid to self-confident and powerful woman. This and a thousand other things were racing through Raya's mind as she traveled the sewers that snaked beneath Gotham City. They—along with the rooftops—were by far the quickest and easiest way to get from one part of the city to another. Her customized black motorcycle—codenamed the _Helix_—rumbled beneath her as she navigated the complicated twists and turns of the sewer system.

The stench didn't bother her; she was used to it, plus she had on a motorcycle helmet that prevented her from having to suffer through the mountains of stench wafting off the rotting garbage and fetid water that she screamed past. The darkness was nearly total, but the optics built into her helmet showed her the schematics of the tunnels complicated layout. They also gave her directions. Following these, she turned left at a T-intersection, right at a branching conduit, and right at another intersection.

Eventually, she came to a stop. She was now in the old Gotham district, and right below the Monarch Theater. Even as she removed her helmet, she could feel that slight tingle in her belly warning her to be careful. She could only believe that Harley wasn't laying a trap, or setting her up for some type of calamity. She climbed off the bike and set the helmet upon the seat before moving quickly to the ladder less than a foot away from her. She had five minutes left.

_Trust your instincts. _

She quickly ascended the rungs of rusted iron, and climbed out the sewer opening. She kept to the shadows and scanned the streets, her body tense, and senses on high alert. But the area around the theater was vacant. Quinn was nowhere to be seen. And that could only mean one thing: that she'd changed her mind and decided to stay with the Joker. Raya felt her heart and spirits plunge. _Oh, Harley_, she thought sadly. _Did you think I wouldn't come? That I wouldn't help? _

She felt a hand upon her shoulder. She didn't even need to turn to see who it was. She knew that it was Bruce. She leaned her head back against that broad chest with a sigh, said; "She's gonna be ready to leave that son of a bitch one day. And we'll be there to help her when she is."

He just replied; "Let's go home, Raya."


End file.
